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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042494">Lost Episodes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28'>gemini28</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Indulgent, Spoilers Will Be Tagged By Chapter, canon adjacent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:35:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini28/pseuds/gemini28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Archives of the Magnus Institute, there are an uncounted number of statements. Not all of them get attention, but within those there are still stories to be told. Among those, here are but a few of them. Keep them well in your heart, and keep a sharp eye out for the warnings within.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Statement of Sergei Volkov</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Statement of Sergei Volkov, regarding the time he spent at the Salar de Uyuni Salt Flats and his experience there. Statement given October 16, 2001. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I must get it out of the way first: I am not the best of men. I have done many things that I will not go into detail about on recording. [Laughter] No, I suppose what happened was a sort of, eh, karma. Though I hope I had made up for what I had done. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I had gone to Bolivia for a...break. Nothing too strenuous for me during that month stay. Beautiful women, beautiful sights, and all with a small group of men following my every step. One was an old friend’s son, Draco Brillianty, who was a close companion during the trip. It was my complaining that brought it up eventually, but he was the one who was actually convinced to let me go away from the main group…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He told me about the salt flats first, if I think about it. I had thought he was strangely excited for it, telling me how wonderfully quiet it was and how it was a place you could walk and not see any trace of civilization. At the time I had thought that he was just showing off his knowledge. Now… He was always a strange boy, though. I hope he did not get wrapped up like I did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyhow. He convinced the others to let me go with only him, and we took one of our cars there. It really was beautiful, although it was much hotter than I am fond of. The sun shines there much more intensely than anywhere else that I have been. Draco did not seem so affected, in fact he seemed very excited. He pointed out how the clouds blocked out enough of the surrounding mountains and there was enough reflection that day to make the whole world look just like a mirror. I agreed that it was very interesting, and was entirely ready to spend a nice afternoon drinking on the side of the flats. But Draco insisted that we would not get a full view of it until we were in the midst of things. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was interested in it. After all, what I had seen so far was nice. [Strangled laugh] We headed out together with our cooler of booze and snacks. He was right, it really did look better the further we went in, and I could especially appreciate it with a cup of vodka in hand. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I do not remember much of afterwards. Alcohol will do that. But when I woke up, it was already night time. The stars were intense here due to being so far away from the cities. I was a bit hung over so it took me several minutes to even think about going back. It was getting cold, however, and so I turned to try and see Draco and wake him up as well and get the hell out of there. But no matter which was I turned, there was only silence and darkness. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At first I thought that it was just too dark to see him. But that was quickly put away when I realized how bright the stars made everything. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I was not that surprised. I did say I was not the best person remember. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once I managed to stand and stay standing, I began to walk in the direction I last remembered us walking from. In the daytime we could not have walked for more than a half an hour and yet as I walked I felt as though I had walked further than we had walked into the flats. The reflective properties of the flats made time seem to stretch out, and the darkness spanned so wide I could not see even the mountains at the edge.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...I do not know how long it took me to realize I was not going anywhere. Oh, I was walking, and I must have been running at one point, but it did not seem like it. And the more I walked, the more I felt as though there was something wrong. Even the salt flats had an end, but no matter how much I moved I could not see it, or even a hint of it. Only an endless sky opening all around me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Eventually I believe I stopped walking? I do not have the strongest memories of that time… But I know for certain that I did not believe that I would ever get out alive. I think I may have simply sat down and thought, for a very long time. And then at some point I fell asleep due to the exhaustion of it all. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...I do not know how long I spent there. But after one of my rests, I seemed to...wake up to the world again. I was two feet from where I had woken up the first time, and Draco was there, just waking up. He did not seem to notice anything wrong. It was not even night time. Just what, then did I see? A dream? No, more like a nightmare… And I have not seen Draco since. When I woke up that last time...he almost seemed disappointed? Perhaps I imagined that as well…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Statement ends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, following up with Mr. Volkov was incredibly difficult. Even just a glance into his records showed quite the laundry list of illegal activities. Martin did a bit of digging, however, and found a missing person’s report. I had guessed that it would be in Bolivia, but apparently it’s in Siberia. Evidently Mr. Volkov had avoided most open areas, but was called outside by a phone call, and simply never returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What catches my interest is the mention of this Draco. Volkov is very vague on his background and relationship to this person, but this doesn’t sound like your average gangster. It probably doesn’t help to make assumptions on who is and who isn’t an Avatar, though. Doesn’t hurt either, though.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Recording.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Statement of Angelina Kurtti</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Those Who Come Away From The Beast's View Unscathed Are Lucky Indeed</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Statement of Angelina Kurtti, regarding a strange man she met in the line of duty. Statement given June 8, 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Um, sorry I’ve never….really done anything like this. If this gets weird just tell me. I mean I know that that’s you guys’ whole thing but. Yeah. Okay. So. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So, I used to be in the army. I went in because- Uh...Well, because I thought it was interesting. Listen, I was a stupid kid that never understood exactly how the world worked before I turned into an adult. I joined up as soon as I hit 18 and it was...rough. As it is when things don’t go as you expect them, but god I remember thinking at the time that half of what I went through should be illegal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Considering what happened, I wonder. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I finally got out of basic, I was nearly immediately sent off into the front lines. This was, ah, during the Vietnam War, mind you. Not exactly a pretty place to be sent to when you’re an idiotic teenager with no real knowledge of war or even death. I mean, I’d never even been to a funeral! But there I was, getting shipped out to the middle of hell. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So the day it happened, it was hotter than hell. I was with a group that I had just been paired up with at the last minute. I honestly can’t remember why- Something about one of their people going A.W.O.L. at the last minute. At that point I had learned not to question those sorts of things. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The kind of men I was paired up with were… Well, to be frank they were bastards. The type that make awful jokes with such sincerity you wonder if it was really born out of the war or if they were always like that. I’d never talked to them before this, though I didn’t really get a chance while we were walking through the jungle. They did most of the talking, anyways. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What we were tasked to do that day was simple- It was supposed to just be a lookout job. Figure out where and when a group of Vietcong met up, and then report back to base. Even if we couldn’t find them, it shouldn’t have taken more than an hour tops. I was assured that they wouldn’t send a complete newbie out like that without sending some good people along to make sure I didn’t fuck it up. Yeah...Army stuff. I was kinda numb to it at that point. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways. I was at the back of the group, keeping an eye on the forest behind us and making sure to hide our trail as best I could, when an argument broke out between two of the others. I walked up and figured out through their hissed threats and cursing that they had lost the map. [A pause] No, wait, that’s not right. It was more like...The map was wrong. I thought at the time that they were just trying to cover their asses, but I guess that’s probably not right. Wherever they had been supposed to take us, they couldn’t figure out how to get there with the way the map was showing. All three of them insisted that they in fact had no idea where they were at all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I was at the back, I tried to find our trail to retrace our steps. But, look, even if I had been some sort of master at stealth I still wouldn’t have been able to hide it that well! There weren’t even any broken sticks nearby that could give us a hint. And you’d better believe I got flak for that. Eventually though they had to pick a direction and go in it. We were all on edge, of course, because none of us wanted to get ambushed and killed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything went fine even as the light of day started to dim, but that was when I started to hear the footsteps. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At first I thought I was being paranoid. I made sure to check, of course, and there was no one there. I was just overtired, I reasoned. Overheated and hungry and thirsty and hearing things that weren’t there. But they continued, never more than a dozen paces behind us. Never faltering unless we did, never getting any closer or further away. It was only when we stopped to rest for a few minutes that I noticed how twitchy the others had gotten and was just wondering if I really wasn’t going crazy or not when- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gunshot rang out, and Thomas fell over dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, when I say it like that it sounds so...casual. You gotta understand, even back then war was awfully impersonal. I had seen more than a few of my friends and acquaintances die and had to move on without so much as being able to pray over their bodies. But this seemed. I don’t know, stranger. I don’t know if this is just my memory being wrong, but the jungle was absolutely silent after the gunshot went off. Not even the sound of water could be heard. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know we ran then, leaving Thomas behind slumped in the mud. Was it the smartest thing? No, not at all, but I don’t think you would have done any differently in the situation. This didn’t feel like enemies attacking us. I can’t explain it. Even now I struggle to really understand the all consuming fear I felt at that point. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was close to night so it didn’t take long for the forest to be covered in night as we ran. I remember that at one point there was another report from the gun- and it was only one, only one person, I’m sure of it- but it hit a tree next to our heads, splintering the bark. I don’t think that was luck at all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We managed to find a cave, eventually. We were all exhausted at that point, and even all the adrenaline wasn’t enough to keep us going. Then- Then the other two turned to me and tried to convince me that I should distract whoever it was following us. I- [bitter laughter] I want to say that I was surprised but no I wasn’t. Neither of them were the type to make sure that everyone came home alive, if you catch my meaning. I didn’t answer right away, and they took my silence as dissent and started yelling at me, about how expendable I was and how I wasn’t going to be missed by anyone anyhow, so why worry? Why bother? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh. I know it’s awful to speak ill of the dead, but...what dicks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were pushing me away from the cave and any of the nearby hideaways, and one had just flipped out his knife and was trying to threaten me with it when his head exploded into a fine red mist. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other guy screamed and I know it’s ridiculous but all I could think was…’Well if he hadn’t found you before, he sure did now’. I just stared as he started running off into the opposite direction, before he too was shot in the back of the head. I know it makes me sound awful, but I was sort of impressed. You don’t get three perfect headshots in the middle of a dense, nighttime jungle by chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was too exhausted to move any further. It seemed hopeless to try and run; if the gunman was close enough to do shots like that it didn’t matter how fast I was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But instead of dying like I’d expected, I watched as a tall man walked out of the thick of the jungle. He was holding a sniper rifle, one that looked absolutely ancient compared to what I’d been trained with. The uniform he was wearing wasn’t American, or French, or Vietcong or anything I really recognized. Short blond hair cropped under a cap. I remember his eyes the most, though. Bluer than anything I’ve ever seen, and almost glowing in the night in a way I’ve never seen any human since do. He looked almost apologetic. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry about all that.” He said to me, as if he had just had an argument with my group instead of killing them. “If I’d known they’d send in someone unrelated, I would have waited. Ah, but I guess all’s well that ends well, right?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He smiled at me and I was seized with almost unimaginable terror. There wasn’t anything particularly off-putting about him. He looked like any sort of sweet faced fool that walked up to the recruitment office. But something was immensely off about him despite that. It was like I was looking down the snake’s gullet, and I was the mouse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He walked over to me and clapped me on the shoulder and I almost collapsed under it. “No hard feelings, right? I mean god. The shit those bastards did.” I didn’t know what he was talking about. I knew they weren’t any good, but the specifics were lost to me. “Good to know they haven’t butchered everyone in the camp! Haha. Go back to base, please, Arthur. Tell that idiot sergeant of yours that if he ever tries this again, Pippin Innanen will have something to say to him.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then just like that he walked back into the jungle and disappeared. The moment he did, the jungle sprang back to life. It was as if it let out a collective sigh of relief. I have never made it back to camp faster than I had before that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...What happened after that is, well, a bit muddy. The second I mentioned what had happened and the stranger’s name, my sergeant stiffened up and ordered me out of the tent while he made a call. And then before I knew it I was honorably discharged from duty. Flown back home and everything. I never, ever got an explanation for it, and I don’t really want one. I’m perfectly happy not knowing what he wanted from us. And...if it makes me a bad person, then fine. But whoever Innanen was, I am glad to never share the same space with him again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Statement ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the time of this recording, Kurtti is still alive, much to my surprise. She’s an older woman now of course, and when I had one of the interns attempt to follow up on it she shut the door in their face in what I was told was quite a polite manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Innanen seemed like a familiar name to me, and with a bit of combing through the archives I discovered why. In the period during Heimosodat, there is a statement mentioning a soldier with that name and a similar appearance. He was, notably, a sniper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>End Recording</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is it, the pinnacle of my characters in this godforsaken universe. hes jsut a little creacher. he cannot change this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Statement of Dr. Harold Bogard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Those Without Any Loyalty Can Be The Most Frightening Of Them All </p><p>contains explicit body/medical horror</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Statement of Dr. Harold Bogard regarding his time spent at a certain laboratory. Statement given May 14th, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This happened during the last year of my Master’s. I was 27 at the time, and quite eager to start my career as a geneticist. However, as you might imagine, there weren’t a lot of places looking for someone who hadn’t even graduated yet- Even though I needed an internship to be able to graduate in the first place. College, am I right? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I tried hard and was on the brink of trying to talk my school out of requiring this, when I got an email. It wasn’t from an organization that I recognized, but I had been applying to so many every day that I assumed it had simply been forgotten. It caught my interest immediately because instead of talking about how terribly sorry they were to have to turn me down, the email started with “Congratulations!” Not only was I accepted into something I still don’t remember applying for, but they weren’t taking me on as an intern. Rather, they wanted to take me on as an assistant, full pay and flexible schedule included. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously it was too good to be true, right? But I was desperate. I figured that even if it was an organ harvesting situation, I’d make them sign off on my work before they took my kidneys. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I arrived for my first day, I had a bit of trouble finding the building. The directions I’d printed off of the internet weren’t as helpful as I’d thought, and their estimate of fifteen minutes walking distance turned into an hour. When I finally found the place, at first I didn’t think I’d gotten to the right spot. After all, what kind of lab would be in a ramshackle building that looked like it used to be an apartment building? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the moment I walked in, I changed my mind and actually felt almost like I could do this. The hallways were clean and brightly lit, and just glancing into the doorways I could see other scientists working. It really raised my spirits, and I followed the information that I’d gotten from the email to go to room 444. It’s just as nice as the other ones I saw, if maybe a little emptier. It smelled like antiseptic and cold. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dr. Peng Li was the one that had contacted me, or at least signed the email, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere. I didn’t want to be rude, but I also couldn’t help but to be curious about where I was going to work, you know? The room I was in was just the office part of the lab, so I didn’t even if I poked around it would come up with anything very interesting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There really wasn’t anything in there besides a few potted plants and chairs. And, I mean, I don’t really know all that much about plants, but these seemed particularly verdant. Very heavy leaves and red, red flowers. I couldn’t honestly even tell you what kind of plant they were? I did feel entranced by them, though. There’s a thing in mathematics called fractals, where shapes in a form become ever smaller the closer you look. There was something similar to that in these flowers...Like the petals were encouraging me to look in closer. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly? I could have stayed all day looking at that dumb plant. If it wasn’t for a hand suddenly on my shoulder, I probably would have. It was like getting a bucket of ice water splashed onto me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello. You must be the new intern.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dr. Li was tall, maybe six feet, and lanky. The most striking thing about him were his red eyes, It was surprising how strong the tint was, since usually even on light eyes only very thick contacts could get that color. His hair was a dark brown pulled into a messy bun, with white streaks through it. It really wasn’t clear if it was from age or dye since I couldn’t tell his age in the first place. He was wearing those little circle glasses with a chain attached, and his clothing was all in black and well tailored. All in all, a picture perfect professor.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I greeted him and he seemed nice enough. He was very eager to show me around, and I was eager to find out what my new duties were. The inner rooms of the lab were nice, just as well-kept as the rest. There was one room that I wasn’t able to go into in the initial tour, but Dr. Li told me simply that it was his personal room and if I saw the state it was in I’d run out screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I told him that he should have seen my dorm during last year’s finals and he laughed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was I happy with what happened in the beginning? I mean, yeah I had to do some grunt work- cleaning the vials and such- before I could start to help with the actual research but it wasn’t like I had a limited time in working there. And as far as I could tell, Dr. Li was a genuine genius, at least to my student mind. He was working on creating more effective false skin at the time, and would spend hours in his office by himself. I never was able to go in there specifically, but eventually I was able to start looking at and helping with his research. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think it was a month after I started. Things had fallen into a pleasant sort of routine, and I think I was really starting to get into my work, when we got a visitor. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was working on files when the door opened, and I looked up to see the largest human I’ve ever seen. They loomed so large in the doorway that I wasn’t sure that they could actually fit through. They were wearing a heavy coat that bulged in unfortunate ways. I was about to call security when Dr. Li walked out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jared!” He said, and walked right over to the hulking man and clapped him on his...shoulder...area. Dr. Li turned to me and smiled. “Harold, this is my good friend Jared. He comes by sometimes to help me in my work.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This...Jared didn’t speak, but I was sort of grateful for that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what someone like that would sound like. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dr. Li explained that he and his friend would be in his office for some time, and that I wasn’t to disturb them unless it was an emergency. And then he left me with quite a few more questions than answers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I spent that afternoon fretting. It wasn’t that I was doubtful of Dr. Li, but...as ridiculous as this sounds now… [laughter] I was worried he was being blackmailed or something. I mean, a guy that big, and Dr. Li being a stick...How could I not worry! I’ve known of scientists being shut up because of their work, after all, and I was concerned that this would be the same sort of thing. So…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I devised a plan. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I wanted to help out Dr. Li, I would need proof. If I were able to get into his office, I might find proof. And to get into his office, I was going to have to find a period where he wasn’t in there, but I was. This was going to be difficult. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>See, Dr. Li only ever left the entire office to me at times when he couldn’t stay, and that was usually only ever when his husband was involved. His terrifying husband who only made an appearance once or twice and looked like if you ever even looked at him wrong he’d snap you in half. When I’d met him he hadn’t even deigned to look my way. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But eventually my plans fell to: Dr. Li doesn’t need to know that it wasn’t really his husband that needed him to leave. A risky move it might have been, but I wasn’t exactly running on intelligence then. I ended up telling him that his husband had left him a message telling him that an emergency had cropped up. Honestly? I don’t think I ever expected it to work. But he fell for it hook line and sinker. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once he ran out of the front door I pushed on to action. He kept extra keys to all of the rooms in the desk and I ran to his office as fast as possible. I didn’t know how long it was going to take for him to get back, and I didn’t want to face him so soon after lying to his face, even if it was for a good cause. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I opened the office, it was dark. This was not unusual, because Dr. Li constantly forgot to turn the lights on even in the general area. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I flipped on the light and looked around. The first thing that really struck me...was how not clean it was. I don’t mean it was dirty like, things were spilled over, but rather it was very chaotic. Books were strewn everywhere, papers were piled haphazardly, and there were several almost-full mugs that were teetering towards mold. The only things that were clean were the specimen containers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was there to find things to prove he was getting bothered, but to be honest...I hadn’t yet actually seen much of what we were working on. Sure, I’ve seen all the information about it, but that’s nothing like actually getting to see what you’ve been working on up close! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So, I said before that we were working on improved skin grafts. Well...Skin grafts don’t really need tanks to be able to thrive, so I was curious about why we had any at all. What exactly was I hoping to find? Maybe something that would make sense, but instead what I saw was- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Breaks away for a coughing fit]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry. Been an issue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What I saw in the tanks were not skin grafts but instead these...I don’t want to say human-like things. That sounds so cliche, you know? Ohh, I found a spooky room with human things in there! But...I mean, they weren’t...shaped like anything else. One of them had a bulbous head that was only attached to the body with a long, thin cord. One had eyes that floated almost half a foot away from the body, the only connection being a weak white film. That one I avoided as soon as I saw it, because I had the unsettling sensation that it saw me right back. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There were other things in the room, like bones with no clear sources that I could see, bottles of blood, and further distressing meat sacks. I was trying to keep my self confidence up, so that I wouldn’t miss out on anything, but it was very difficult to focus with all of the things around me. But I was sure there was some sort of reasonable explanation...Like, Dr. Li could be </span>
  </em>
  <span>really </span>
  <em>
    <span>into Halloween. After all there wasn’t any way these things could be real. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d made a circuit around the room and was just about to start looking into the papers when I realized that the door was shut. I had left it open so that I wouldn’t get caught by surprise when Dr. Li returned, and it hadn’t been open so little that I wouldn’t hear it shutting. This made me nervous, because, well, the only other person who would be in the office and would shut the door without saying anything was Dr. Li, and if it was him then he almost definitely was calling the cops right now. Or at the very least the scientist in charge of the building. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hurried over and tried to open the door again, to check, but it wasn’t budging. It was locked. No matter how hard I pulled or banged on it it wouldn’t move, and the key I’d used to get inside had vanished. This was the absolute worst case scenario. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know how, but I managed to calm down and start looking for the key. I had to go back over to the specimens again, because I had been startled enough over there that I may have lost it then. I made a point not to look up at them, though. The area around them wasn’t as messy as the rest of the office, but it was still a bit cluttered. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was when I cut my finger on paper. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was an immediate scratching and gurgling from the jars, and when I looked up the specimen with the bulbous eyes was gone. To say I panicked is an understatement. It was all instinct when I ran over to the door and tried desperately to open it again. It wouldn’t move an inch, and in fact felt far more...How should I put it...solid? Than it had before. I don’t know why, but before I could have probably kicked it open. Now...It felt like it might as well have been made of steel. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a sharp pain in my ankle and it was the pain combined with how tightly my nerves were stretched that I screamed and kicked out. The creature went skittering across the floor, one of its eyes detached and a clear substance leaking out from it. It hissed at me and I shrieked. It moved much faster than I thought would be possible for something that had been until moments ago floating in a solution. It ran towards me again and my next kick missed it by inches. This time it grabbed onto my pants leg and crawled its way up, biting at me any time I tried to move it or grab at it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I fell in my rush to get to the bench where Dr. Li kept all of his dissection equipment, knocking over the box that held it and spilling the tools all over the floor. The little creature was still biting into me, and I realized with a kind of dim horror that it was doing its best to eat me. I grabbed a fistful of the scalpels and plunged them into the creature, not noticing at that moment that I also ended up stabbing myself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It let out another frightening cry and I was able to throw it off, but moved too quickly for the amount of blood I was losing. I don’t really remember how far I got to the door before my vision went blurry and I ended up passing out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I woke up, I was in one of the other rooms. I felt incredibly woozy and thought at first that I’d been given some sort of pain medication since I felt perfectly fine. But even when I moved, there wasn’t any pain. I checked my legs and chest, and besides little holes torn in the fabric, there wasn’t a single injury or scar on me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>On the table there was a note and a pink slip. Dr. Li had summarily dismissed me, and all of my things were neatly packed into a box. I didn’t really take it hard, however. I mean...I don’t know. The excuse was that I had lied to him and that he couldn’t trust me if I was willing to do that to get him out of the office, but it doesn’t sit quite right. I left without even being able to say goodbye. I’m glad that he fired me, because I don’t know if I would have had the courage to quit on my own. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Statement ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Peng Li… A well known name in the Archive’s recordings. His actions are as broad as they are horrible. I had Martin attempt to find the office that Dr. Bogard referred to, but he found them abandoned and shuttered, and no legal trail of a scientific office having been there. Dr. Bogard, it turns out, was found dead mere months after making this statement, his body missing all its organs and having disturbingly small bites taken out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of note, I mentioned Dr. Li in passing to Elias and he started muttering about gifts the doctor has sent to him in the past. Perhaps there are better layers to him than initially thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>End Recording.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you might be thinking "ah, a fleshy boy" but i can assure you that the good doctor has never worshiped anything specific in his life and hes not about to start now. hes here to harass medical students and elias and create abominations and thats IT</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Statement of Andrea Marie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beware Those Who Claim To Be Who You Trust- They Are Not Who They Are</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Statement of Andrea Marie regarding her experiences at a state fair as a child. Statement given June 1st, 2019. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Back when I was about seven my father got a job in the States. Since he was going to have to travel a lot for it, the rest of our family- my mum, my brothers- stayed here while he would come home once or twice a year. I don’t think I really liked him all that much as a consequence. He wasn’t cruel or mean or anything, but he wasn’t really there either, you know? I’m not sure I could have picked him out of a lineup of equally bland businessmen without a photo handy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One of the things I looked forward to was when he would get us all on a plane and put us up at some fancy hotel. I knew enough to be smug about these rare trips to America, even if ninety percent of the time we were just going to walk around some large city and look at museums. Coming back to tell my schoolmates stories both real and made up was a shot of popularity for me, one that I never really got over. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I must have been nine or so when we went to one of those small states on the East coast. Looking back on things, I think I might have known there was tension between my parents. I couldn’t tell you if it was money, or my dad being gone for so long all the time, or what. Whatever it was, they definitely were snappier with each other, which made all of us kids just as testy. That old daisy chain. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if that’s why my dad decided to bring us all to a state fair. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now, I don’t think we have anything quite like what they have in America. Over there, there’s always so much food and noise, so many lights...and so, so many people. I remember, when we first walked through the big arch that was covered in streamers, some horrible food pun I can’t recall now, and bright neon lights, I thought for sure we were at, like, Disney. Even if my mum wasn’t very impressed, us kids sure were. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We had those all day access passes, where a worker would wrap a flimsy bit of tape around our wrist before setting us off into the crowd. Technically we were supposed to stay with one or both of our parents the whole time, but I gave them the slip almost immediately. After all, I was old enough that I’d been walking to school in our town all by myself! And we’d been to festivals before, it wasn’t like I’d get lost. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As you might imagine, I immediately got lost. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I didn’t notice at first. You never do, when you’re a kid. I wandered happily, without a care in the world. I think I even managed to get on a few rides. What made me realize I wasn’t near anyone I knew was when I found an interesting, ugly, plush doll and immediately wanted it. But when I turned to ask my mum if I could get it pretty please I realized that she wasn’t there. And then as I thought, I realized that she hadn’t been there for quite a while. And, coming from a small village I have to admit that looking at everyone surrounding you and understanding that you know none of them was a scary experience. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was stubborn, though. I was the eldest child, after all. I had to keep my wits about me and make sure that I didn’t cry even if I really felt like it. In the way we often do as children I figured that I could find my family again easily, so long as I found one or both of my parents. My mum was a woman who dressed impeccably even in an outing like this, and I’ve already talked about how bland my dad was. But again, stubborn. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a large, pressing crowd when you are much shorter than most of the people in it. Since it was the middle of summer the heat was unbearable and the constant push of bodies did not make it any easier on me. I pushed my way through it as best I could, but eventually I had to give up when I was knocked over by someone much taller than me who didn’t so much as apologize. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There are a lot of places for a small child to hide in a fair. I think I ended up next to one of the many large lemons selling lemonade, because it was one of the shadier areas. I think I may have been crying at that point but still stubbornly refusing to admit it. Then I heard someone calling my name. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I looked up, it was my father standing in front of me and smiling. He was holding the toy that I’d been looking at earlier, and he was asking why I’d run off when he had been paying. I stood up, dusted myself off very seriously like I’d seen people do on TV, then ran into his legs hugging him very tightly and sobbing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t ask where I’d been, and I didn’t ask how he’d found me. But I clung to his hand in a way I hadn’t in years as we walked to a quieter area. It was in between two of the rides- a house of mirrors and a haunted house. I was starting to calm down, and somewhere in between one place and the other he’d bought a bottle of my favorite soda. We sat together quietly for a minute, before he asked me if I would like to stay with him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When I asked him what he meant, he explained that he’d been working here in America, in different fairs. It was fun and fulfilling work, and he’d been planning on getting us kids and mum in on it eventually, but first he had to see exactly how we acted since he’d been away for so long. After all, not everyone is suited to working at a place like this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wasn’t sure how to take this, at first. After all, what I knew about my dad’s job could be summarized as numbers and meetings. Definitely not something I’d even come close to associating with the carnival. But I was a kid, and he was my dad. It was too easy for me to accept that I’d just been wrong about what he did for a living, and to let my excitement at being asked to join him in this life overwhelm me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, something niggled at me. I couldn’t tell you what, exactly, it was. But I told him that I’d have to ask mum about it before I made any decisions since she’d be really cross with me if I just decided on my own. I think I may have been trying to test him. The dad I knew would be happy that I was acting mature and not immediately jumping to do whatever I wanted. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead, the dad I was standing in front of frowned. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was perfectly normal, the type of expression a person sees an uncountable amount of times in their lives. At the same time though, it wasn’t normal at all. There was a weight to it that I can’t properly explain in words, a wrongness that pulled at my bones. I realized that my father was not blond. I realized that he would never wear a tie that wasn’t a shade of gray. I realized I did not know who this man was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I ran. I didn’t stop to think about the fact that the man was going to be much faster than I was, or the fact that I was just going to get lost again. I ran because if I didn’t I knew that this person would never let me go back to my family. In a blind panic I didn’t turn towards the crowds where I could have maybe lost him, but instead towards the darker almost-alleys of space in between attractions. As a young child it was easy enough to slip through them but just as easy to lose my way and get turned around. Everything looked the same and I could hear footfalls behind me, never gaining or losing space between us. My father’s voice, still sounding the same but twisted like a cord echoed through the passageways, ever calm and polite and asking me why I have to make everything so much harder by running. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I may have been young, but I wasn’t so athletic that I could run forever. Eventually even the energy from fear ran out and I crumbled against a wall with a clown poster on it. I could hear the footsteps getting closer and it was only with a final push that I managed to squeeze myself in between two crates. I could still see the alley from where I was, but could only hope that my pursuer could not see me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He walked out into my line of sight and I had to shove my hand against my mouth to stifle any sounds. He was definitely not my dad, now that I could look at him clearly, and I couldn’t figure out why I had ever thought that he was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah,” I heard him say, quietly. “She was quicker than I thought she’d be. The Brits are too surrounded by us, I guess.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before I could begin to question what he could mean by “us”, he reached up and began to remove his face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was and was not like a mask. That kind, polite expression that I had so easily mistaken for my own father didn’t move an inch as he peeled it back. There was some sort of sticky substance in between the face and the rest of his head, and it stretched unpleasantly before snapping free. The...creature gave what I can only describe as a sigh of relief, adjusted its hair, and turned its head just enough to show that where there should have been a face was just a smooth, flat expanse of flesh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I screamed. I couldn’t help it. It turned towards me sharply and I screamed again, getting up on my feet and starting to run again. Seeing that had filled my body fresh with fear and energy, and all I was capable of in that time was avoiding the obstacles that were in my way. I didn’t, couldn’t think about what I’d just seen. I knew that if I thought for even a moment I’d just lay down and give up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know how long it took me- ten, twenty minutes, it could have even been seconds- but I eventually burst out from those twisting back roads and smack into someone’s legs. I was picked up instantly and fought against it with fear still coursing through my body. It took me a few seconds of panicking before I realized that it was my mum who had me in her arms, and a bit longer after that to make sure that it really was her and not another fake. I hugged her tight and sobbed my heart out for the second time that day, and was relieved that she seemed to be just as frightened as I was. I didn’t question it until she asked where my brother was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My father and brother were never found. The police thought from my ramblings about what had happened that it was a case of inter-family kidnapping, but no evidence was ever found to support that. And eventually I had to stop telling the story of the creature with my father’s face, because no one believed me. I don’t know if I even believe this story anymore. It sounds outrageous, doesn’t it? The easiest answer would be that I had just been traumatized by my father’s attempt to kidnap me and my brother, but…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, here, look. This is a poster for a local fair. That’s my brother’s face on that person off to the side. He hasn’t aged a day. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Statement ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Stranger appears in a circus-type area, again. Followup with Miss Marie proved impossible as whoever answered her previous address was most decidedly not her. As we weren’t immediately attacked, however, I feel reasonably confident in saying it was just a run of the mill change of address. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as the man with no face goes, he has shown up in a few other statements. He seemed to be mostly American based in those, so the fact that he’s now possibly arrived in Britain does not imply good things. Perhaps we’ll be able to get a statement from him before he does more damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>End Recording.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is inspired from a VERY specific emotion you get from state fairs in america. source: every single fair ive ever gone to even as an adult</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Statement of Lazarus English</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Which The Archivist Deals With That Which Is Not What It Is, And Forms Opinions On Art</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>[Tape recorder clicks on]</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: -it’s not like I expected to meet the person responsible for an entire area in artefact storage. From what I’ve experienced most creators of these items don’t like to come into the Archives at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>???: Haha, yeah, well...you can’t blame them! Everyone at the Institute is either murderous or just crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: </span>
  <em>
    <span>[sputters] </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s- We-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: </span>
  <em>
    <span>[indignantly] </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us are! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>???: Oh, certainly! But </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough </span>
  </em>
  <span>are that most aren’t willing to risk being shanked the second they walk into the door by someone lightly slapped by the Slaughter. Would you be willing to try and get something of yours from a group of people who could glare at you until you became a fine mist?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: ...Point taken, I suppose. But then why are you here? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>???: Well, as fun as it is to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to deal with Elias, I did want to meet the new Archivist. Gertrude never did want to deal with me. So you’ll be the first one to get a direct statement from me! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: Right. I suppose that is what you came here for. Then, let’s get started. This is a statement on what, exactly? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>???: Hmm, let’s go with...How I found myself attracted to the Spiral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: </span>
  <em>
    <span>[sigh that implies “not another Fairchild”] </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alright. Statement of Lazarus English about what led him to work under the Spiral. Statement recorded direct from subject, 15th of March, 2018. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: Hm...Where to start… I suppose maybe by saying that my family, traditionally, serves the Web. I’m not sure how long we’ve been at it, but it was certainly pressed on me from a young age that it was expected as inevitable for me. I was the eldest, so there was a lot expected of me. My family was rich, so I got the best tutors possible with the strictest guidelines for my day to day life. Now that I think back on it, I think it was a sort of test to see who was better suited for being controlled and who was good at controlling. After all, my baby brother went through the same lifestyle and came out very good at manipulating people into doing whatever he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Me? I never got anywhere near that clever. Once I pointed and shouted over an instructor’s shoulder and jumped out the window when he glanced away. The third story window, mind. But I was never really easily tricked, either, and once I’d made up my mind about something it was difficult to sway me any other direction. I’m not sure when they realized that I wasn’t interested in the Web, but once they did my parents lost pretty much all interest in me. That was fine by me, because at that point I had gotten more than frustrated by that lifestyle. So, when I was about seventeen or so, I ran away from home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wasn’t totally stupid about it, though. I had about a thousand pounds in cash that came from my monthly allowance, and back in the day that could get you a lot further than it can now. And it was easier to take a boat out of England. Of course, I prefer planes now, but there was something nice about the open sea. Makes me wonder if I’d be Vast inclined in another life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: To clarify, what...year was this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: Oh, my mistake! You do like your particulars don’t you. It was about, eh….1901? Apologies, sticking around something like the Spiral makes time </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>tricky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon:  ...Noted. Please continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: Right, well, I took a boat to mainland Europe. I think I ended up in Spain, and started looking for work. I haven’t ever been able to sit around idle for very long, you see, and even being seventeen knew that my money wouldn’t last forever. But I didn’t want to work anywhere that my family could find me easily. Even if most of them didn’t care about me, I didn’t want to catch the attention of any that did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not like I had any trouble getting work, however! You see me now, and I was even heartier as a young lad! There was always need for someone strong and able to follow instructions on construction sites, and I took the opportunities as they arose. I never stayed in any one place for very long, though. Once you become aware of the truth of the world, it’s hard not to see the way so many of the entities creep into the corners. When airplanes were invented I refused to go on them for the longest time, because I was convinced it was another damn plot from Simon! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: </span>
  <em>
    <span>[quietly, hesitantly] </span>
  </em>
  <span>Were they? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: Probably! Really useful, though, so at least for those of us who aren’t afraid of the Vast they’re great! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As interesting as it was spending time floating about from place to place, it eventually had to end. I’d managed to get all the way down to Egypt before I woke up one morning and the Germans I’d been sharing a room with had made off with all of my money. I sleep very heavily, so I suppose it was only a matter of time, but it was still upsetting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next few days were very unlucky. I couldn’t find the men I’d spent time with, and I couldn’t find any work. I had a bit of food on me, but it was all stuff like jerky and alcohol- Things that were more for a hangover than a real emergency. It got bad enough that when it started to rain late one night, I ended up trying to catch the water rather than get out of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You know what’s funny is, thinking back on it I don’t know that I was all that worried about my predicament. Sure, I was annoyed and frustrated that I wasn’t getting anywhere, but I was young. Dumb. I figured things would work themselves out eventually, and in the meantime it was kind of fun to bum around like I was. But in the back of my mind, I think I knew I was going to be in trouble. I just didn’t want to admit it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rainstorm started to get worse, and although it would have been  a good idea to get out of it so I didn’t get sick from sleeping outside in the freezing night, I just kept walking around. I didn’t really react to any of it until the first bolt of lightning struck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was pretty close. If I had just been a few feet to my left, or if I’d been holding a bit more metal..That probably would have been it. But instead it hit the ground harmlessly, although the sound and force of it was nearly enough to knock me out of my senses. And the storm was right overhead, so it wasn’t going to take long at all for the next bolt to hit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally I figured out I probably shouldn’t stay outside anymore, but where would I go? There were plenty of overhangs, but how safe were they, really? I sure as hell had no idea. And the second I started towards one, thunder rolled overhead and I was slammed with the full force of lightning hitting me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You look like a guy who’s gotten punched a lot in his life, Archivist. Now, I won’t say that it’s exactly like getting punched, but I will say that it makes all the previous punches I’d experienced up till that point look like nothing. Little lovetaps. I’m not a small guy, and getting struck by lightning opened my eyes to how everyone under a hundred pounds must feel at all times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What I’m saying is it hurt like hell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I woke up I thought for sure I was just savoring the last moments of a dying man. After all, back then you didn’t really hear that much about people surviving after getting hit by lightning. But..except for a slight ache in my shoulder, I didn’t hurt at all. My shirt was torched, absolutely burnt to cinders. I had no idea why I wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sat up, and I touched my shoulder where it hurt. There was a raised pattern there that had certainly not existed before, and when I looked down I was immediately taken by the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. A spiraling, dizzying fractal burnt solidly into my skin, arcing across my shoulders and down my chest. Even in the dark of night it seemed to glow brightly, pulling me deeper into its details. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I did end up passing out, and when I awoke in the hospital the doctors said that it had been the shock of getting electrocuted, and scolded me for not being more careful. They pointed to the now bandaged lichtenberg figure as a terrible shame on my body, but it was all I could do not to take the bandages off to look at the scars again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They forced me out of the hospital soon after that, what with me having no money, but I didn’t mind as much as I might have before. After all, I was inspired. What had seemed like truly the lowest of my low days had become something so insanely personal just with a stroke of luck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I had always been artistically inclined but before this I hadn’t really found anything I wanted to create. Everything seemed too similar to everything already made, or it simply wasn’t enticing enough. But now, I knew that all I wanted was to try and capture the magic I’d seen that night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I managed to grab a few odd jobs and spent most of my money on art supplies immediately. I settled into a hostel and began to paint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It became obvious to me that I couldn’t quite capture the figure on canvas even if I looked at my scar. It was very frustrating, because I felt as though I could almost touch on what about it enticed me so, but it kept slipping from my grasp. It was a good thing I was too stubborn to stop, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking that I was simply out of practice with regular art, I decided to take my supplies out to a nice part of the town I was staying in and paint a bit of the surrounding area. It didn’t hold as much interest as the figure did, but I figured it was important to refresh the basics before I tried to tackle something so impressive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a good thing I did, too, because once I looked at the landscape I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>see the pattern everywhere. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wasn’t overwhelming, in fact it was more like the static on TVs. In the background, pulsing with energy. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhilarating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I painted like I’d never painted before. It was as though everything- from the stuffy things my art tutors made me paint, to the haphazard scribblings I did while on jobs- were just playing around. This was what it felt like to make real art. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time I finished the painting, the sun had long since gone down. I couldn’t even see my brush anymore. But that didn’t seem to be a problem. I felt as though I could have continued to paint the whole night through and wouldn’t have had any issue with getting the details exactly right. But I was also starving, and wanted my painting to properly dry so I could admire it in its final form. So, I headed back to where I was staying and set my painting out in the drawing room, because that was where the sunlight would be best in the morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I went to bed, and I won’t bore you with my dreams. I honestly don’t know if I was already affected by the Spiral yet or not, because my dreams have always been sort of strange. I wouldn’t have been able to say if anything was out of the ordinary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was,</span>
  </em>
  <span> however, was when I woke up the next morning to banging on my door. Normally the other people living in the hostel had no interest in me, and really very little in each other. It was only if something was the matter that they bothered me. So when I opened the door to the frantic face of one of the students, I was concerned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when I followed him to the drawing room and saw a group clustered around my painting, I was worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when I saw the dead body in front of the painting, one hand still grasping at the whorls of the paint, I was...bewildered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Listen, Archivist, I am well aware of my intelligence, and I am not that smart. I had no idea at the time that I’d been touched by the Spiral, or even that it was possible for me to be taken by an entity that was not the Web. So to see someone dead in front of my painting was disconcerting at best. But it was also kind of thrilling. When I’d see the end results of the Web’s mechanisms, I found myself being less than impressed. Almost a little bored. But this was exciting. Even if I wasn’t aware of what exactly it was that I’d done, something about it felt right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone around the body had become entranced by the painting, including the student that’d come to get me. Even when they moved their eyes couldn’t be torn away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I wasn’t impressed. What I’d seen while making it didn’t at all live up to what I’d created. In the light of day, it was a poor facsimile of what I’d witnessed. I was not happy with it. I knew- No, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do better. I left the house soon after that, both because I didn’t want to be questioned by anyone and because I was excited to get back to painting again. Now that I’d practiced, I was sure to do better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: </span>
  <em>
    <span>[deep sigh] </span>
  </em>
  <span>I still haven’t perfected it though… I suppose the very form of the Spiral means that I never will, but that hasn’t stopped me! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: And...that’s it, is it? That part of your story? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: Yep! I’ve already rambled on for a terribly long time, I’m worried Elias is setting up some euclidean trap for me as soon as I step out of your office! Haha! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: That seems to be a common opinion among people who have met him, yes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: For good reason! That little man is so conniving! Rude little bastard. Anyways, Archivist, thanks for your time! If you ever need to find me again… </span>
  <em>
    <span>[sound of paper sliding along the table]</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: This is...A business card for a tattoo parlor? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lazarus: That’s right! I’ve started branching out into the tattoo business! It’s very fun, you see. I should show you some of my new work some time. For now...Toodles!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>[a chair scrapes, and there’s the sound of footsteps. A door opens, and closes with a click. There is a beat of silence, then a soft inhale from Jon] </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: ...That door wasn’t there before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>[Tape recorder clicks off]</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sometimes youre so horny for your entity you draw pictures of it for several decades</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welcome to the thunderdome first off we have fashionable bastard vast avatar number 400 ft. idiot who got EXTREMELY lucky. once.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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